


hide and seek

by ShippingEve



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Episode Related, F/F, Fluff, One Shot, Sexy Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEve/pseuds/ShippingEve
Summary: "Now I am going to hide and you are going to find me"
Relationships: Villanelle | Oksana Astankova/Pamela
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	hide and seek

**Author's Note:**

> when someone wants for fic, i provide

When Richard suggested Berlin for their yearly use-our-vacation-days trip, Pamela resisted at first.

“I’ve already been,” she pointed out.

“When you went abroad in college?” he’d asked. “I’m sure some things have changed in thirty years.”

“Oh, stop it, you.”

Pamela might’ve liked a warmer locale – Tahiti, Palermo, Miami. But Richard had his heart set on Berlin, so to Berlin they went. He was a History professor, absolutely obsessed with all of the relevant World War II landmarks.

Pamela felt she had seen the Berlin Wall enough times, and so she told him to go ahead while she rested up at the hotel. Being a good, trustworthy husband, he did not protest. He said, “Hope you feel better,” and went on his merry nerdy way.

Pamela thought she’d retire to her room and make some progress on her book – a cozy mystery, the latest by her favorite author; she was just starting to get to the good part. Along her way back, though, she got distracted.

A tour guide was walking by, delivering loud, carefully enunciated descriptions of the sights in French to a gaggle of tourists. For some reason Pamela felt drawn to them, and followed along, blending into the group. Her French was rusty, but she still understood most of what the guide described. She followed along as if in a daze, unable to pull herself away. But my mystery, part of her brain said. Still she followed the tour. But Richard, her brain said. Who knows how long its been, perhaps he’s come back and he’s worried. Still she followed.

It wasn’t until she’d walked at least a kilometer with the guided group that she finally was able to stop herself.

“Psst.” A voice said.

Pamela turned her head. 

“Psst.”

Pamela looked over to see the sound of the call. A young woman, leaning up against the brick side of a nearby building, several meters away. Dressed in an odd puffed-sleeve, high-collared leathery shirt, blonde hair done up in a bun, sunglasses shielding most of her face from view.

When Pamela finally found control of her voice, she squeaked. “Are you talking to me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?” The suspiciously dressed woman took a step closer to Pamela.

“Anyone else,” Pamela stammered.

“No,” the woman said. “You will do.” Even with her eyes covered, Pamela could see her head dip down to look down Pamela’s body. “You will do very nicely.”

She took Pamela’s hand. No introduction, no courtesy, no lead up, no regard for the fact that they were strangers meeting in the street of a country that neither of them lived in (at least, Pamela inferred based on the woman’s accent that she was not German. Sounded more Eastern European than that.)

The next thing Pamela knew, they were at the woman’s hotel room, and they were kissing. Not just a little. “Making out”, that’s what kids would’ve called it. Pamela wasn’t exactly sure how it happened. It was all too fast. But here she was.

Once the woman’s sunglasses were off, it was clear she was much younger than Pamela. In her twenties, perhaps – certainly not more than thirty. Yes, Pamela had had her share of flirtations with women, and once or twice more than a flirtation, not that she’d ever reveal that to Richard, but never with a woman this much her junior. She’d never have initiated it, but she couldn’t find it within herself to repel the younger woman’s forceful advances. Because much as Pamela didn’t want to admit it, this was… exciting. A thrill that she never expected from boring old Berlin.

The lips battling against hers. The tongue probing her mouth. The hands roaming up and down her jawline, pulling it closer for easy access.

Then she stopped. Reached up to Pamela’s hair. Unclipped it. Mussed it. Pamela wanted to stop her, but then, it wasn’t like she had such a fancy complex hair style to be ruined. A shampoo and a blow dry will fix it. 

“I am going to call you Eve, okay?”

“What?” Pamela was only able to respond with confusion, as truthfully, she was having trouble recalling her own name at that moment in time.

“A little biblical fantasy thing.”

“Oh,” Pamela stammered, heart fluttering. “Do you want me to call you Adam?” And it seemed fitting, in a way, once she said it: though obviously a woman, this audacious figure before her seems to embody a sense of primal masculinity, so much so that Pamela could believe she was the prototype of all humanity.

But the woman only laughed this suggestion off and planted another deep, firm kiss. Then she backed up, straightened Pamela’s lapels. “Now I am going to hide,” she said. “And you are going to find me.”

Pamela wanted to ask if that was a joke. By the time she opened her mouth, and restored her breath from all the kissing, “Adam” was gone.

Pamela’s heart was racing. She didn’t know what to make of this. Hide and Seek? As a sexual thing? Nothing she’d ever imagined before. But it seems Adam, for lack of another name to call her, was taking it rather seriously, because she vanished. 

Pamela whirled around, looking around the room. How could it be possible that she disappeared so quickly? 

She was left with no choice but to search. She checked the closet first. Nothing. 

The armoire. “Hello?” she called to the dark space inside. No response.

She pulled back the shower curtain in the bathroom.

She pulled the blanket off the bed. And the top sheet for good measure.

Pamela was just about beginning to believe that Adam had run out from the hotel room simply to make her look a fool. Is that what gets kids off nowadays? Sweeping an older woman off her feet, then running off and leaving her confused?

She was ready to grab her coat and leave, ashamed, forgetting this ever happened, when she heard a tiny sound. 

A tiny, muffled, high pitched giggle.

Pamela stopped, and turned around. She crept in the direction of the sound. It was coming from the most obvious spot. The spot so obvious, that she hadn’t even though to check.

Underneath the bed.

As Pamela’s footsteps took her closer to the bed, the giggling got louder. 

An idea struck Pamela. 

“Oh no, where could she be?” Pamela said loudly. “I have no idea.”

The giggling increased even more.

“Could she be in the closet?”

The giggling got muffled, like Adam was biting her hand to stifle it.

“Could she be over here by the curtains?”

The panting from the beneath the bed grew even more intense.

“I just don’t know where she could be…” Pamela said, then decided the tension was enough.

She bent down to look underneath the bed. “There you are!” she exclaimed.

A hand shot out to grab her ankle, and Pamela felt a genuine stab of fear thrill through her like a monster was going to pull her underneath the bed to hell. But Adam merely used the grip as leverage to pull herself out from underneath the bed, squirming out onto her stomach.

Once she was out she popped up.

And grabbed Pamela again.

And gave Pamela the most exquisite fucking of her entire life.

—

A year later, when Richard asked where they should go for their yearly use-our-vacation-days trip, Pamela didn’t hesitate.

She knew she’d never see Adam again, but she couldn’t help but crave that feeling. She wanted to be close to the memory.

They settled on Tahiti that year. But as she laid in the sun, Pamela was far, far away.

She’d always have Berlin.

**Author's Note:**

> though season three is a welcome distraction, i remain
> 
> send requests @ShippingEve on twitter


End file.
